


La Petite Mort

by creepymura



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Anal Sex, Emotional Baggage, M/M, bottom murdoc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 21:35:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14923253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creepymura/pseuds/creepymura
Summary: Drabble commission from tumblr





	La Petite Mort

**Author's Note:**

> second person, from murdoc's pov

"It's alright, I've got you, babes. Just take a breath for me, yeah? There we go, that's it."

Stuart's whispers, in the low light of your Winnie when Kong is silent with sleep, are as soft as his touches against your burning skin, and he presses kisses up your jaw as his spidery fingers go down to hold your hips. Gentle but firm, you expected no less. Giving himself more of an anchor as he lines himself up with you, slowly pressing deeper into the almost unbearable tightness.

With your arms around his neck, you can't gauged any of his reactions so you press your flushed face down into his shoulder, trying to stabilize your shaky breathing, eyes squeezed shut.

He's nice. Sweet satan, he's so fucking nice, and so patient with you, even when he didn't need to be. Nothing like you were when it was his first time. You had thought it better that he just bite the bullet, take it like a man, so to speak. Not give him time to think about how vulnerable he might have felt taking it like that, how he'd never done anything like this before, if he would even be strong enough to take it without crying like a proper little virgin.

But Stuart? No, he gave you plenty of time to think all of that through. Like he's doing it on purpose, sadistic little wanker that he is.

"That's nice, isn't it? I'm right here, just focus on me."

It's a few moments of silence in your brain, silence that could only be filled with worries and anxieties. Vulnerabilities that you didn't want him to see, not yet. Not so soon.

You just let out a long, steady breath, holding onto him tighter, bitten fingernails digging into his shoulders. Muttering roughly for him to just "get on with it."

It's weird. You'd never been one to doubt yourself, doubt your thoughts, your feelings, your sexuality, especially not during times of passion. You'd been comfortable with your attraction to men for a long time, probably longer than Stuart had even been alive, you'd been comfortable with liking sex with men, of every degree, purpose and position. At least you had thought you were comfortable with it.

But for some reason, you're not so sure all of a sudden.

You hate it, you hate it so fucking much, but your mind momentarily thinks about a prominent ex-lover, one who'd taken you and dealt with all of those vulnerabilities a long time before Stuart had gotten the chance to. You try not to think about how much you'd liked the sex back then, when you were freshly sexually traumatized and ready for someone to replace the multitude of men who'd taken advantage when you were far too young and doped up to really remember any of it. You remember how poorly that had ended for you, and for him respectively.

Maybe that's why you've been avoiding this for such a long time.

You couldn't have been to blame for that though. That wasn't your fault.

"You're getting lost in your head again, babe. Just stop thinking for a bit, yeah? I got you."

But Stuart was so nice, so patient with you, hadn't pushed for this at all, had waited for you to give full, though somewhat begrudging consent to someone so personal and intimate. You sort of wish he'd been your actual first, just a little bit. But you suppose you didn't really deserve someone so nice for your first, not really anyway.

He holds, practically cradles your body against his so kindly, slowly, too fucking slowly in your opinion, jutting his hips and pressing himself inside of you. Plenty of lube, a condom, he'd even taken the time to spread you open with scissored fingers until you were almost crying for more of him. Though you wouldn't admit to that, of course.

He even teases you sweetly, saying how good you look, how much he loves you how much he wants you, how long he's wanted this and how he can't believe that he gets to look at you like this.

You keep silent though, pressing your face into his shoulder, trying to stop your body from shaking while he presses deeper inside of you, intently listening to your stuttered breathing, your gasps, your moans.

"Oh fuck, that's so good..." You murmur against his sweaty skin and you can feel a gap toothed grin against your neck. He's probably having a field day with all of this. You're not sure if you mind his enthusiasm though.

"Told you it would be." He says sweetly, stroking up and down your hips, all your sensitive parts, and he chuckles kindly at the way your body shivers. "That feel nice, Muds?"

"It feels fucking incredible, Stuart." You manage to get out between your whines and whimpers, trying to ignore the tears beading in your eyes, on the edge of falling down your cheeks. Stuart wouldn't have minded, but you don't want him to see it, all the same.

Despite your shaking, he can't help but thrust deeper inside of you, the head of his latex coated dick barely stroking the bundle of nerves that made your prostate, and you could feel yourself clench tight against him. Moaning and letting your back arch so you could properly press your own hips down against his and feel him even deeper inside of you. You could tell his eyes were practically rolling back into his head at your tightness. It's almost a compliment.

You're too tight and too sensitive and far too emotionally fucked up to be that good a lay, but it feels fucking incredible. You'd forgotten just how good being fucked like this felt, and the fact that it was him making you fall apart under his touch, in his arms, makes your own dick (ignored and pressed between the two of you, smearing pre-cum against his stomach, the light blue hairs above his belly button) throb even harder.

Letting all your suppressed emotions out, you let barely there tears streak down your cheeks as he digs his nails into your back and rakes them down your skin in a moment of slight sadism. Even the pain feels wonderful when he's doing it.

"More...give me more. Need it." You manage to gasp out between drawn out moans, and he doesn't need to be told twice before his hands are down to your ass, groping you hard and spreading you open, and the pace of his bucking hips builds up significantly.

He's mechanic, like a piston, and the sudden shift from caring and gentle to the brutality he's suddenly showcasing is so overwhelmingly erotic that you can't help but let orgasm hit you, and hit you hard.

Painting your bodies with your passion.

**Author's Note:**

> if u like the shit i do, consider commissioning me or supporting me on ko-fi for a drabble of your own
> 
> whipstickagocock.tumblr.com  
> ray x


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